


the thought of you just caves me in

by buries



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>sometimes she forgets how to love that part of herself until he shows her.</i> or the one where bellamy reminds raven he's <i>right here</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the thought of you just caves me in

**Author's Note:**

> written for the ravenbell kink meme for the prompt: "Raven loses focus, starts overthinking, and can't get off even though Bellamy is trying to get her there. Frustration ensues." what i had originally hoped for ended up being something more along the lines of "frustrating Feelings ensues." there's a tiny little bit of plot in it, but otherwise! and in true me fashion, there's greek mythology. one day i'll be able to write a fic without it being featured in it somehow. 
> 
> title is from terence trent d'arby's _sign my name_. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. hope you enjoy, anon! ♥

“You’re doing it again.”

The warmth at her neck disappears. Raven tries her best not to look at him, but by not looking at him, she’s looking up at the stars instead. And she can see every single one of them staring down at her, twinkling in their own mysterious way. They’re talking to her, but she can’t hear them. She isn’t so sure when she stopped listening to the stars. 

She sighs. “I’m not,” she says, shaking her head. Bellamy looks at her with an arch to his brow. Trailing her hands up his bare arms, she presses her lips together and tries to smooth her features. “I’m _not_.”

Bellamy shifts above her. Beneath the full moon, she thinks he looks just like that attractive guy in the Greek stories. Adonis. Except he has a sad story, dying in the arms of his love. It’s what she’s been thinking about, picturing it in her head. She’s never thought herself to be anything like Aphrodite, but she’s beginning to see why Bellamy had thought of her as such a goddess.

With his mussed hair and his slightly flushed face, Raven thinks to trace his cheeks with her fingers. Her hand doesn’t move, but his does. His rough hands are light on her face, thumb sweeping over the apple of her cheek. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” she says. Lifting herself up on her elbows, she almost bumps her temple against his chin. “I’m right here.”

When he tilts his head, Raven moves. Presses her mouth against his jaw, she murmurs, “I'm right here. Do something about it.”

Bellamy pulls away and she feels him press his smile into her naked shoulder. Lying back down on the blanket, she closes her eyes, and feels him kiss her collarbone. A hand's on her hip, holding it there; she can feel the imprint of his fingers on her hipbone. Dragging her foot along the blanket as he moves to kiss between the valley of her breasts, Raven hums low in the back of her throat.

Moving down the length of her, she bends her good leg at the knee, feeling herself cradling him even though her other one remains lying flat before her. Without its brace, she feels naked, and it's what she likes best about being with him. There’s safety in not wearing anything at all, from a brace to a mask.

With her fingers in his hair, she curls them, scraping her nails along his scalp. Bellamy hasn’t stopped smiling. She thinks she can feel the pinch of his cheeks burn into her skin, right against her inner thigh. Sucking at her flesh, she opens her eyes and arches her back, looking up at the stars as she sees they’ve aligned as she asked.

She’d always prayed to the stars, asking them for guidance, for luck, even for a little love. They’d disappeared over the last few days, barely scattering themselves across the darkened sky. The moon hadn’t shown her face, either, only peeking out through the curtain of the night to show a quarter of herself.

Licking her bottom lip, she feels her entire body tense with anticipation. It’s when she can’t feel him tending to her inner thigh that she tilts her head to look at him. With his dark hair, he easily blends into their surroundings; messy and unbrushed on his head, he looks like he's been windswept like the tall blades of grass. 

Bellamy’s purposefully slow, sucking at her inner thigh of the leg she can’t feel. But she knows she can. It hums throughout her, the way he doesn’t think to bruise one leg and not the other. She watches his hand curve around her thigh and glide along it. 

She thinks of how it’d been without him in camp. Her leg, left alone, unloved, ignored by her. He’s always had a fondness for that leg. Touching it like it’s not some damaged part of her. Sometimes she forgets how to love that part of herself until he shows her.

Her fingers tighten in his hair on purpose. Slowly curling through the strands, she makes sure to grip him. Make sure he’s still there. Sometimes she needs the reminder. Tonight, she knows she has to make it for herself.

She doesn’t realise she's tugged too hard on his hair until he asks, breathless, “What?”

Blinking, she shakes her head. “Nothing.” And slackens her grip in his hair, brushing them through it before she lets one slip away.

“Raven.”

She breathes out, voice a little too hard, “It’s _nothing_ , Bellamy.” Falling back against the blanket, she lets her head rest there. She sees the stars but she refuses to acknowledge how they blink down at her now.

He moves, but it seems to only be a shift against the blanket. She doesn't feel him return to her leg. Afraid to look at him, she tilts her head upward and, from the corner of her eye, she sees him. Looking at her patiently. His hair's a mess, standing up at all ends, his face as flushed as she imagines his entire body would be.

“Keep going,” she breathes out. Her hand curls around the blanket, bunching the material between her fingers. Her other one rests against her hip, brushing against his. Bellamy’s fingers move to slide over hers, as if he needs to hook her there. 

Feeling her throat tighten, Raven blinks back the blur twisting the twinkling lights in the sky into one streak of silver. “Please, just keep going.”

“Raven.” This time, it doesn’t sound exasperatedly amused. She can hear the concern twist the syllables of her name, and she feels her own stomach clench with it. Releasing the fabric of the blanket, she wipes the back of her hand against her wet eye.

“What’s going on?”

Determinedly looking up at the stars, she clenches her jaw and refuses to let the words work their way onto her tongue. If she continues to remain quiet, then maybe he’ll stop.

But Raven knows he won’t. Following her from a meeting room when she’s worked up into a rage, carrying her from one of the rovers before it’d shot itself into the sky in a burst of flames, sleeping with her when she hadn’t wanted to be alone, Bellamy’s never stopped. Even when it’s not what he needs, wanting to sleep in a bed alone after a particularly nasty attack, he’s never stopped giving her what she asks.

Once, someone had told her they’d pick her first. Raven had been stupid enough to believe them. Now, for the rest of the time she has him, she knows she _has_ been picked first. And when she’d picked a certain fate for him, she had hated how whoever was watching over them chose to pick it up and shatter what she had crafted.

After a long moment, where he doesn’t move to hover over her, caging her in, and she doesn’t stop looking up at the stars, she finds her voice. She doesn’t tilt her head to look at him. Feeling his eyes on her, never wavering from watching her, she finds the courage to let those words tumble from her lips. In a tight voice, she says, “I don’t want you to die for me.”

Looking at him, she watches his face. He doesn’t look away from her. He doesn’t look guilty or regretful or like he pities her. It registers, with the way his eyes shift to her neck before looking up at her again, that he knows what she’s talking about. It’s the thing no one speaks of. How Bellamy Blake had almost killed himself saving Raven Reyes.

Staring unwaveringly at him, she keeps her voice even, “I don’t want to hold you in my arms and feel you die.” It’s why she’s on her back, refusing to hold onto him, letting him move to wherever it is he wants to be. The weight of him has always been comforting, grounding in its own way when she wishes to spiral and crash back onto the earth in a shattering mess, but she can still feel the weight of him between her fingers.

“It won’t happen,” he says quietly. 

“It did for Aphrodite and Adonis,” she says.

Bellamy’s lips quirk upward. “That’s just a story, Raven.” It doesn’t sound right, coming from him, considering how he gives such life to these stories like he believes them to be attainable to mere mortals like them. “It’s not going to happen. You won’t let me.”

She whispers hotly, “Damn right I won’t.”

“So,” he says, lips curving into a warm smile that sees her hackles soothed. “How about you relax? Stop thinking. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t let me.” And when he kisses her leg, the one she can’t feel, she sighs. As she does, her tension alleviates, seeping from her as he pulls it from her skin with his hands palming her legs.

“Okay,” she says. She hears herself repeat it over and over in the form of a sigh. Elongating the syllables, her breath hitches in between when she feels his tongue on her cunt. 

Her fingers find his hair again, pulling at the strands. She can feel and hear him moan, it reverberating through her like she’s the earth herself. Bellamy's fingers tighten around hers at her hip, and hers respond in kind, locking his hand in place there as she can feel the bones of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the conviction in his softly spoken words spread through her and hold her up better than any brace her hands could build.

His hands are warm, the other moving along her thigh as he licks into her, spreading the heat of his touch along her skin and inside of her. Raven doesn’t look at the stars anymore, tilting her head back and arching her spine as she feels him slide a finger inside of her.

The earth shakes beneath her, mirroring her own movements as she feels herself copying the way the ground vibrates under her back when he curves his tongue inside of her. It’s when she feels him hum the tune he’s trying to teach her on the piano that she grips at his hair tightly, fingers curving hard around his shoulder. 

When she opens her eyes, she sees him tuck his hand beneath her bum leg and pull it, carefully, like it’s still some prized possession of his or hers, over his shoulder. She moves her other one to follow, lifting it clumsily, feeling him remove his finger from inside her to help her throw her leg over him. 

Digging her heel into his back, she slides it and feels it burn against his skin when she feels him slide two fingers within her. It’s like he’s playing the damn piano again with how she can hear herself moan, growing louder and louder and strong enough to shake the earth like she’s someone who can sway it to her own will.

Stupidly, she tries to find her voice, and when she does, her words come out butchered, half-forgotten in a moan, “I’ve stopped thinking now.” About him being gone. Of her fear. Of how the stars had somehow aligned to keep him safe. If she thinks too much on how he’s picked her first, over and over and _over_ , she thinks she’ll feel her entire body shake and fold into his ministrations too early.

The frustration that had bubbled inside of her, so angrily and hot that it burned her lungs and smoked her air, has transformed into something that buzzes. Humming beneath her skin, it centres itself wherever he touches her. Following his hands, his mouth, even where she can feel her heel touch his back, her entire body focuses on him.

In response to her, he sucks on her clit. Feeling his teeth, Raven’s fingers curl roughly in his hair. She feels and hears his moan reverberate inside of her. Her other hand reaches out to touch the stars, but she finds that her fingers only find the moon, residing between her legs.

When she feels his teeth again, his fingers rougher inside of her, Raven thinks she murmurs something. Or moans it, the words burned on her breath. Three words she only murmurs into his skin when he’s dead asleep, her hands having lulled him into feeling safe for the first time in weeks. She thinks she can hear them shake and echo around the forest floor they’ve claimed as their own.

His reciprocation is burned into her, from his words, from the touch of his fingers, from the way his mouth slants itself against her. She can feel him almost singing them with each stroke of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers. Digging her heel into his back, she grips his hair and digs her fingers hard into his shoulder and comes.

Staying between her legs, she shifts so she can watch him, cheek pressed against her shoulder. Hair sticks to her temple just as his does. Lowering her leg off his shoulder, she feels herself flush at how he kisses the inside of her thigh. She can’t feel it, the way his lips press against her skin, but she can see it. The way he doesn’t let one piece of her slip through his fingers.

Crawling up the length of her, he lies beside her. With one leg thrown over hers, and his arm over her chest, she turns on her side to curl into him. Gliding her foot along his leg, she watches him shiver and smile at the light sensation.

“We should do that more often,” she smiles. Her lips curve upward into a wider grin when he kisses her temple.

Removing his arm from her chest, he brushes her hair back from her head. Resting his cheek on the blanket, he lets his fingers trace the slope of her own lightly. Raven puffs it up just to hear his laugh warm her again.

“Next time, I want you thinking of me,” he says. 

With a light furrow to her brow, she looks at him as though he’s sporting two extra heads. “Don’t be stupid.” Leaning forward, Raven’s nose brushes against his. “I’m always thinking about you, Bellamy.” She likes how he smiles in embarrassment, ducking his head to hide from her. 

When he looks up at her again, mouth still curved in that same sheepish smile, she makes sure to hold his gaze. “That’s why it’s sometimes such a problem,” she says. She lets her fingers trace his lips, brushing against the freckles of his cheek. 

Letting her hand drop to his shoulder, she lets herself feel him. He remains still, hand now palming the small of her back to keep her against him, like he’s afraid she’ll slip away. Her hand brushes along his side, sliding away to trace her fingers lightly against his back. Feeling him tense, she smiles as she moves forward to slope her mouth over his.


End file.
